


5 Things Jason Used To Do Before He Died

by uaigneach



Series: 2017 In-Class Works [11]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Ballet, Gen, Jason Todd is Alive, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason is a Dork, Jason likes to read, Jason-Centric, Literary References & Allusions, Literature, Prostitute!Jason, jason can dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 19:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12732993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaigneach/pseuds/uaigneach
Summary: And 1 He Still Doesthe title my dudes





	5 Things Jason Used To Do Before He Died

**Author's Note:**

> This took too long to write out

  1. Read old English literature (like the type you read in English class) for fun



If there was one thing that Jason enjoyed doing after being adopted by Bruce, it was having access to the Wayne family library. Sure having an actual rood over his head and food in his stomach was like a dream come true, but that library – books in general – were a serious luxury that Jason had never even thought about.

Jason had never really gone to school before becoming a Wayne in all but name, but he had known how to read. At every chance possible he’d gone to the one library in lower Gotham and read as much as he could in the few hours he had. He’d never bothered to get a library card because where would he have even kept the books? He wouldn’t have been able to return them, let alone return them in a good condition and Jason respected books above everything save women, Alfred and food. Shelter and justice were just slightly below books and writers.

The books were also torn and distressed and lacked variety. But Jason had loved that library nonetheless. However, Bruce’s library was like heaven for anyone even resembling a bookworm. He had first (or at least early) edition copies of classic English literature. They had all of the best Shakespeare, poetry and classic novels. Jason had a soft spot for George Orwell despite his writing style.

He had found 1984 actually humorous because of the parallels he could see between Oceania and upper Gotham. He’d seen both sides, and he could honestly say that the few in the middle class of Gotham’s lifestyle greatly resembled the Outer Party. He like to argue with the stupid rich brats at Gotham Academy about how _they_ were the inner Party and that no, they could not relate the suffering of Winston because a. none of them worked for anything in their lives, and b. their parents were so bloody rich they would never have any need to want for anything in life. This upper class could not say that they were hard done by and actually think no one would say anything, no in front of a Crime Alley kid. Even the damn teachers were upper middle class, but at least they’d agreed with Jason.

Anyways, while Jason had enjoyed sitting by the fire and reading something like Animal Farm, he also enjoyed taking a Shakespearian or Shavian play and hiding away in the attic to act it out and goof off without being judged. Most of the time, he’d had no idea what was happening in the story, but he somehow managed to impress his English professors with his “understanding” of the metaphors, jokes, and symbolism hidden in their current study (which at that time had been Much Ado About Nothing).

He’d spend hours just absorbing everything he could, even if it didn’t have anything to do with school. Reading and books were one of the few ‘cultured’ things that Jason even outclassed the rich people of Gotham in. Well only that cooking. For some reason, the rich seemed unable to cook anything for themselves. Heck, Jason had actually witnessed Bruce burn a pot _and_ the stove while trying to make tea.

How.

But that wasn’t the point. Books gave Jason the chance to escape the tragedy that was his life – he wasn’t fooled; ever since he was 7, he’d known how his story would end. Guys like him just didn’t get the happy ending. But in books, there was either the happy ending to soothe the soul and to give that brief flicker of hope, or it was told as a tragedy and validated Jason’s bitterness. He wasn’t alone in his suffering because his precious characters understood. That was more than he could ever hope for from Bruce or even Dick. For the both of them, their greatest tragedy was seeing their parents’ deaths. While Jason knew from experience that it sucked and every trauma affected people differently, however they could never hope to understand the desperation of slowly losing what little you had and being left with nothing.

Bruce was rich beyond belief and had a beloved butler to look after him even after his parents were murdered. Dick grew up with the circus and was then adopted by a multi-billionaire after _his_ parents were also murdered. Jason had grown up on the streets of Crime Alley alone after his abusive father left and his druggie mother overdosed to escape life and responsibility. Bruce and Dick tried to connect with him, but it was plain to see in their body language that they just _couldn’t_.

They suffered sure, but it wasn’t the same. Only a Crime Alley kid really understood what Crime Alley was like. As a Crime Alley kid, you learned to appreciate the small luxuries in life. Jason appreciated free time, warmth, food, shelter, school, and books.

So Jason read and he studied hard to catch up to the others his age, and to make Bruce proud. And when he had free time, he’d curl up by the fire with a classic novel. The last book he’d read before Ethiopia had been the Princess Bride. He’d wanted the hope for a happy ending.

Being Robin gave him magic. Why shouldn’t it give him a happy ending?

 

 

 

 

 

After the Joker, the pit, and his return to Gotham, he didn’t really have time to read anymore. He was too busy with cleaning up Crime Alley and desperately trying to fix himself to bother with reading anything so long winded as classic literature. Jason had tried after things had settled down a bit. He’d gone to a book store and picked up a brand new copy of the Princess Bride. He’d set aside a night to curl up in his bean bag chair with a blanket and a small contained fire.

He’d gotten as far as opening the book before he suddenly just… couldn’t continue. He couldn’t force himself to read the words on the page, couldn’t relax from the stiff, pained and weary stance he held. He’d ended up throwing the book across the room. It would have been pointless for him to read it anyways.

He no longer believed in happy endings.

 

* * *

 

  1. Baking



Now no one could say that Jason wasn’t a good cook. He’d done all the cooking back when his mother – Catherine – had still been alike, and he’d learned how to make very little be both filling and didn’t taste like ass. When he’d been adopted, he’d used those skills to impress Alfred. He’d had a good pallet and with some slight guidance from the old English butler, he could’ve given a world class check a run for their money.

And while he enjoyed cooking (Jason was a foody, you can’t really blame him, right?), he _loved_ baking. Back in his childhood he’d never really had a need to bake, let alone had a place to bake. With cooking, he’d been able to get by with a  frying pan (good weapon too) and some basic utensils. He could start a fire anywhere and be ready to go.

Baking required time, space, patience, equipment, and carefully measured ingredients. On the streets that just wasn’t in the cards and counted as a luxury. Alfred had taken great pleasure in teaching him the art of baking, something his predecessor had never managed to master.

Who was he kidding? Dick had never even passed beginners level. It was one thing Jason could do better than Golden Boy Dick Grayson. He had found that he loved baking especially when Dick or Bruce were there to react in shock at his skills.

 

 

 

 

 

After he came back, he went back to his old habits. He cooked to eat edible food, but baking was a luxury, and a pointless one at that. It was a reminder of what was, and he didn’t see the need to waste time on something he’d never have a use for.

There was no one that he was trying to impress. Why would he dredge up bad memories just for the reward of feeling nostalgic???

 

* * *

 

  1. Dancing, specifically ballet



Believe it or not, this was an actual thing that he’d done. Not when he lived on the streets, but when he was forced to act like a high end ‘civilized’ human being. Or, as he like to call it, like a rich holier-than-thou snob. The type of brat that was well educated, ‘cultured’, and wasn’t a stain on the family name.

Dick had been charming the pants off of the high society fold since day one. As a circus kid, he’d learned how to talk to people to get them to like him, and those skills were only complimented by his naturally alluring personality. Jason had none of that. He was naturally rough around the edges, blunt, and angry. He didn’t like people and people didn’t like him. He’d been fine with that.

He was a Crime Alley kid, a street rat. He wasn’t supposed to be charming. You needed to be tough to survive. But he was no longer living in Crime Alley. Now he was the adoptive son of a multi-billionaire. The _second_ adoptive son, just to add insult to injury. _Jason would always be second best._ He now needed to be perfect if he ever wanted to even stand a chance at being good enough to stand next to Dick fucking Grayson.

Golden Boy Grayson also just _had_ to be talented too. That obnoxious kid was a born acrobat from a family that was an internationally renowned attraction. He was the last living Flying Grayson. How was Jason meant to compare to that?! Him, whose only talents were things that Bruce frowned upon and would only ever be somewhat useful. Jason felt so incompetent and out of his league.

When Dick had been Robin, Robin had flown through the air as if he’d had wings. Robin had leapt and flipped around without a care, just enjoying the Gotham landscape. When Dick left, he’d taken the grace of Robin with him and placed it in the careful capable hands of Nightwing; his new persona. All that was left of Robin for Jason, was the suit, the legacy, and impossible shoes to fill.

Bruce made him die his hair black and put in contacts so that no one would be able to tell the difference between the two Robins. And while Jason knew the streets of Gotham like the back of his hand and he even looked like Dick, he was nowhere near as _acrobatic_ as the first Robin. Bruce needed him to fly exactly like Dick had, but Jason’s wings had been broken too many times for them to carry him gracefully anymore.

So in an act of desperation to not disappoint the man who had saved him, he’d gone to Alfred for advice. In response, Alfred signed him up for ballet lessons. _Not_ what he was expecting. All the same, he’d gone to the classes. Ballet was supposed to be one of the most graceful dances in the world. Even a street rat like him could learn some grace.

Really he just wanted to stop falling on his face when he tried to flip like Robin was meant to do. (He hadn’t even _tried_ to get the laugh right.) So yeah, he went to the dance studio and he worked his butt off. He actually like school, classes, and learning. Part of that was probably due to the fact that he’d never dreamed he’d have this chance, so he was subconsciously savouring it.

He enjoyed doing the moved and after a while, he actually became quite good. Alfred had gone to everyone of his recitals, but he’d never struck up the courage to ask Bruce to go, never mind even tell Dick and be forced to admit the reason why. Dick and Bruce had enough problems without Jason throwing his own inadequacy issues in too.

 

 

 

 

 

He’d visited the old dance studio exactly once after returning to Gotham. In the short time that he’d been… gone, the studio had all fallen into disarray. It had been collateral in one of Batman and the Joker’s many fights and was still slowly rebuilding itself. He’d stepped around the yellow tape and just wandered through the halls that used to be so painstakingly perfect. Now, the polished wood was cracked and the mirrors coated in dust and shattered. Everything unused and settling in the wake of disaster.

It was very much like himself and he almost felt a connection with this building from his fond memories that had been broken and left behind by the never ending war between the Joker and Batman. He’d gone in the middle of the night that singular time. Just once to try and dance again. But that one time that he went, he just couldn’t do it. It was just like reading the Princess Bride. He’d start going through the moves, but it was just that, going through the motions.

The feelings he used to associate with dancing were gone. Instead, he felt more empty than even, as he twirled and leapt around the dusty cracked floor. The rush he used to feel was gone, and his muscled ached with the phantom pains of shattered bones. Somehow, his muscled managed to remember all of the steps while simultaneously screaming at him that he shouldn’t be moving, let alone exerting himself like this. It was all in his head – the Lazarus pit had healed all of his injuries, leaving only faint scars that didn’t hinder his range of movement with scar tissue – but it didn’t stop dancing from becoming an unpleasant experience.

Shame, once upon a time he’d wanted to go professional. Maybe do something with theatre. He hadn’t really thought all that much about it. Go figure.

He’d finished his dance and stood staring at himself in the grimy ruined mirror. Robin had done ballet and acrobatics. Robin was the one who danced elegantly over the rooftops. Well, not anymore. The replacement didn’t move like an acrobat or a street kid and dancer. No, Tim Drake moved like the aristocrat he grew up as and pulled off his moves seamlessly. He was everything that Jason never was. The perfect Robin; the perfect replacement.

But Jason was no longer Robin. The Red Hood fought like the Crime Alley kid that he was. He didn’t flip like an acrobat or move like a ballerina. At most he moved like a free runner. The red Hood had no business knowing how to pirouette.

He wouldn’t be dancing again. It was a waste of time, to hone a meaningless skill.

 

* * *

 

  1. Dying his hair



As previously mentioned, Bruce had made it a clear unsaid rule, that Robin was to remain the same in all ways. Learning ballet heled Jason slightly with the graceful fighting style, but there was still some clear physical differences. Some things, Bruce could not fix, like Jason’s lower Gotham pale complexion and freckles dotted across his nose. But other things could be changed, like his muscle mass, hair colour, and even eye colour.

Jason’s aquamarine verging on green eyes were hidden behind bright blue contact lenses, Alfred put him on a special diet and soon enough he went from starving emancipated street rat, to built and healthy. Jason had never really _liked_ the contact lenses, but they weren’t all that uncomfortable and they hid his eye colour he’d once caught Catherin Todd crying over because they resembled Willis Todd’s almost exactly. He’d hated that man and resented all features he shared with that abusive dickhead.

So yeah, the pros definitely outweighed the cons with the contact lenses. It was the hair dye that was the problem. Not only was the upkeep annoying beyond belief, but he’d actually liked his red hair. It was the same shade as his mother’s and reminded him of the most kickass female he knew: Barbara Gordon. Also, his black hair only made him look more like Willis. Not exactly a pro for him. Sure, he also looked more like a Wayne, but he had still hated it.

Although he never complained because he’d always been terrified that if he stepped a toe out of line, Bruce would realize how big of a mistake he’d made in choosing Jason to be the second Robin. Heck, he’d been so obsessed with proving himself that he’d had panic attacks every time his grades dipped even a percent below 90%. Those were pretty frequent in the beginning because he’d literally jumped from grade 3 level academics to prestigious high school level academics in like a night.

So it was a constant cycle of retouching his roots every time even a millimeter or two showed. Nobody save Bruce and Alfred even knew black wasn’t his natural hair colour. Heck, Dick _still_ didn’t know even though he’d stopped dying his hair after leaving the League of Shadows” tender mercies. That was admittedly, at least partially his fault due to him avoiding removing his helmet around any of the Bat family. But another part of it was Dick just being plain stupid. The outlaws consisted of 3 redheads – Jason had even said _this over the comms_ onetime but Dick though he’d dyed his hair orangey-red.

No one had ever claimed Dick was a genius.

Yeah Jason had let his natural colour grow out, and soon he was back to being a pale ginger. Great. What a hot look.

 

* * *

 

  1. Going to school



It was no secret that Jason hadn’t really gone to school before Bruce took him in. He’d gone to the closest public school (no schools in lower Gotham were even remotely good – no one learned anything academic there, it was more like a training facility for mini criminals) but had stopped when his mother overdosed. By then he was on the streets and really didn’t have the time or money to offord school.

Heck, at the time, he hadn’t even had enough money to eat once a day.

But after he’d been adopted by Bruce he’d been thrown head first into Gotham’s most prestigious middle/high school. Honestly, he’d loved school and learning even if all the teachers treated him like shit. He’d studied hard and worked even harder to make his way into all AP courses. He even doubled his English courses and joined clubs like business leadership, the school’s literary journal, and yearbook committee. He took extra lessons for ballet and even archery. He just loved learning and once his teachers accepted that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, they actually began to like him.

Well his English profs anyways. He was one of 2 students who actually A. gave a shit, and B. read the books. Teachers appreciate it when students made intelligent comments and observations. Despite being a really good school, English wasn’t something a lot of Gotham’s richest pursued. It was like a class where every student turned off their brains and just sort of stared at the teacher It was literally Jason and one other student that were carrying the classes. It would have been funny if Jason hand’ been so passionate about the subject.

Seriously, couldn’t someone think of any other symbolic meanings of the paperweight in 1984 than “it’s a symbol of the past.” Unbelievable. He’d say inconceivable, but he knew none of them would get that reference.

If being Robin gave him magic, then going to school gave him a purpose. He had been one of the few kids to ever actually enjoy school. He greatly suspected that it had been a nice change for Bruce considering how often Dick had skipped class. I mean, you can take the kid out of the circus, but you can’t take the circus out of the kid..

 

(technically the same could be said about being a street kid. Jason may have been successful academically, but it was Dick that had truly fit in with the high society. Of course, now that Time Drake was officially Time Drake-Wayne, he was the perfect one. Genius level intelligence with drive _and_ the ability to navigate through social event and come out on top every single damn time.)

 

But that wasn’t what mattered. Jason had actually been in the process of talking with his English profs about which universities would be good for an English degree when he’d been killed. Yeah that’s right, Jason had actually had future aspirations once upon a time.

 

 

 

 

When he’d returned to Gotham, he hadn’t even bothered to get his G.E.D he’s a dead Crime Alley vigilante, what need does he have for an education any more. He was smart enough to get by, and the things he needed to know weren’t exactly taught in school. Plus, it wasn’t like he had the time to attend classes of any kind. Did he even have the drive to? He couldn’t make it 25 pages into his favourite book and his passion for dancing was all but gone.  Sometimes he couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning. His two career plans were shot, so why not give being a crime boss a go?

Roy had tried to convince him that getting his G.E.D wold be a good idea, but Jason couldn’t stand the  sight of school anymore. All those hopeful faces. He’d just end up wrecking it for them. He’d had his time flying near the sun but he got burnt and his wings were shunted. He didn’t belong back up with the other birds. He was a bird born underground, he wasn’t meant for the sun or the wind or the blue skies.

Neither Roy or Kori brought up university again, and even the demon brat and the replacement were decent enough to not bring it up. Everything else was of course fair game, but they all understood on some level that Jason’s education was just as big of a sore spot as Ethiopia and the Joker.

 

* * *

 

  1. (+1) doing hair and make up



Okay, that may sound ridiculous, but hear this out. You see, he grew up in lower Gotham. Before his mother’s overdose (but after Willis abandoned them) most of their neighbours had been prostitutes. Jason was a small kid who had both himself and his mother to feed. He was too young to even consider prostitution for himself yet, and he still hadn’t honed his skills in thievery yet, but he still needed to make money somehow.

He’d first been approached by his neighbours when he was 7 year sold. His mother had wanted to leave the apartment for a bit, but at that time, the bruises form Willis Todd’s love still hadn’t faded from either of their skins. Catherine had been obsessed with normal, so Jason sat his mother down in the hallway where there was better light and then he pulled out their meager make up supplies. Jason had somehow always been better at this than Catherine ever was. They were just lucky that they had the same skin shade.

It had been early in the morning when Jason had expertly covered all signs of bruising, dark shadows and even some signs of drug abuse. They didn’t have the good stuff, but they’d had enough for Jason to accentuate Catherine’s eyes and lips a little bit; enough to make her look almost healthy and lively.  Of course, since it was early morning, that’s when some of the newer prostitutes made the ‘walk of shame’ back to their apartments with whatever they’d managed to make.

Unless you were experienced and had a set of regular clients, you took whoever for whatever. Had to build up a reputation somehow right? Fortunately, there was only 2 newbies living in the building. Unfortunately, they were both in their mid teens. 13 year old Abby and 15 year old Crystal lived a door down from Catherine and Jason, and they were as new as they come. They passed by just as Jason was finishing up his mother’s eye shadow. ‘Hey! You’re really good at that!” Abby said suddenly, pointing at how Jason was blending out the eye make up. He paused looking up at the two girls.

They were wearing stripper heals and short skirts. Glittery tank tops were covered by tasteful fitted jackets to keep the cold at bay. Not bad for newbies. But from the neck up, they were disasters. Each had on a choker that completely clashed with both of their clothes as well as the large hoops they wore in their ears. Their make up cut off cleanly at their chins, revealing that it was a t least close to their natural skin tone, even if it was 3-4 shades off. The rest of the make up slathered on their faces was horribly done and smeared every which way.

Not exactly what you’d want to see when you’re fucking someone. These newbies weren’t going to last long like this. Not when there were more experienced more attractive girls out there. Even if they weren’t working girls…

He looked up at them and smiled shyly. “Thanks?” he said, finishing up the make up job with some translucent powder to make sure it stayed on long enough for them to enjoy the day. It wasn’t his best job, but you can only do so much with the bare minimum of the cheapest supplies available.

Crystal nodded, clearly agreeing with Abby’s statement. “As you can probably tell,” she said, gesturing vaguely towards her painted face. “We’re not exactly all that skilled in that department. What would you say about helping us out if we payed you? What do you say about 20 dollars a night to doll the both of us up. What do you say?” she asked, cocking her hip to the side and placing her hand there.

Catherine was stuck in her own little world, just staring into the abyss in a sign that Jason recognized from when she’d been coming down from a high 2 days ago. She most likely wouldn’t be of any use today to him than not alerting the cops. He was on his own here. On the one hand, an extra 20 dollars a day meant an extra meal or two a day so that was great, on the other hand, there really wasn’t any guarantee that this would be a permanent thing. He glanced at the near rats nest that was Crystal’s hair.

“Alright, on two conditions.” He said, holding up two of his fingers. “One: you let me do something about your hair too. And two: you supply all the equipment” a tone of finality in his voice. Deal or no deal, those were his boundaries. Well, the second one was. The first was just him putting his foot down because Crystal’s hair was a _mess_. That shit hurt _his_ eye, he can’t imagine how much it turned off the clientele.

Abby raised her eyebrow, “we can do that kid. We’ll be here ‘round 8, ‘kay kid? See ya then.” She said, puling Crystal back in the direction of their shitty apartment, leaving no time for Jason to get a word in edgewise.

And that was the story of how Jason first started doing his hair and makeup for prostitutes.

 

 

 

 

True to their word, Crustal and Abby showed up at his door at 8 pm sharp with the promised 20 dollars and their make up kits (which were actually very well stocked!). Ture to his word, Jason fixed them up real nice and they looked pretty all night long.

Despite learning some tricks and techniques from Jason, they kept coming back, even increasing their pa to 20 dollars each when they began bringing in more dough themselves. A pretty prostitute makes the dough. But that wasn’t the only thing they started bringing back in. Somehow, others had heard about the little Crime Alley punk and his ability to work wonders with both cosmetics and hair. Within a couple of months, Jason had a group of working girls who would swing by his and pay him to doll them up.

And because Jason was not the type to splurge once he had money, he saved all he earned and would be able to both pay rent _and_ eat for a while! This was one of his best decisions. Even his mother had been a bit more _there_ during this time. But only a couple months into Jason making some money did Catherin relapse and _hard_.  Hard enough that she OD’ed almost instantly. After that, Jason hadn’t really known what he was supposed to do. So he ran to the streets because he knew that the reason they’d had such cheap rent was because the landlord had taken a fancy to Catherine.

He continued to do hair and make up, but now it was more in exchange for a hot meal, a shower, and even a roof over his head for the night. As Crime Alley residents themselves, the other prostitutes understood the matter of pride and don’t give him freebies but they also gave him more than he was due because he’d been around 8 at the time. When he got a bit older and bit more mature, he turned to other types of income as well, just to be able to eat and maybe hold his own place for a bit.

None of them said anything when he joined them on their street corners once a week.

When Jason was adopted by Bruce Wayne and became Batman’s second Robin at age 11, he simply up and disappeared from the streets. And while Jason’s induction into the Wayne family might have been a  big deal in high society, Gotham’s lowest couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the rich assholes that flew above the destruction.

It wasn’t until he first got the chance to patrol a section of Gotham without Batman, that he realized how much his presence was missed by those he knew.

He’d been sitting on the roof of a building when suddenly there was a feminine shout of surprise and the hurried click of heels. “Jaybird!” someone yelled happily, causing him to almost fall from his perch. He whipped around, looking down to see some working girls standing near him. He squinted trying to find which one had yelled when he spotted Abby. He glanced around, making sure Bruce wasn’t about to appear out of the shadows before zipping down until he was standing in front of the small group of prostitutes.

“When I’m working, it’s Robin, sweet cheeks,” he said cheekily, winking at Abby as best as he could with the domino mask on.

Abby squealed before quickly pulling the new boy wonder into a tight hug. “Oh my gosh you’re okay! We were so worried when you just disappeared! ‘Thought maybe on o’ tha’ clients might’ta gotten you.” She said happily, clutching him tightly. “What were you thinking> Not telling us where you went or if you were even alive! We though something bad had happened. Now it turns out you’ve been runnin’ ‘round the streets fighting crime this entire time?” she slipped into a thick Gotham accent the more emotional she got. He quickly flipped out of her grasp, turning to stare at her.

“Robin hadn’t left the streets. Robin usually misses a night her and there.” He says carefully, eyeing the other girls with Abby. He knew all of them, but so far only Abby seemed to recognize him. “How do you know I’m who you think I am?” he asks. Abby rolls her eyes and places a hand on her hip.

“Please, I’ve known you since you were a little rugrat still chasin’ after your folks. No hair dye can hide your bone structure kid. And I’d know those freckled and that laugh anywhere.” She said in a matter of fact tone. “Girls, this is the little rugrat that used to do hair and make up for us working girls before apparently getting scooped up by Daddy Bats to be the new Robin. ‘Guess the other one was getting too old.”

At that revelation, 3 other girls who had been considered Jason’s regulars squealed. “JayJay!” and grabbed him for a quick group hug.

“We missed you, little bird!” Shelly said, “like Abby here said, ‘though somethin’ bad ‘had happened.” He blushed lightly at all the attention.

“Nah, not’in’ bad, Shelly.” He admitted, slipping back away from the proper way of speaking that Gotham Academy was forcing him to use. “Bats took me off the streets, and I’m even goin’ ta school now!” it was something to be excited about. The girls knew how much Jason had wished he couldn’t continued his education. Now he had that chance, and a couple cheers went around the group. “But now that ya know who I am, I’m gonna need ya to keep it a secret. Bats doesn’t want anyone even knowin’ that Robin’s changed hands – hence the dye – let alone who I am.”

The girls all exchanged glances before nodding. “Us girls ‘ave y’ur back, little bird. Just come visit us every once in a while. Some of tha new girls need cosmetic help every now an’ then.” Abby said reassuringly.

After that, Jason had made it a point to stop and help (both in and out of uniform) at least once a week. At least up until Ethiopia.

 

 

 

 

 

When the Joker had killed him, he’d screamed it from the rooftops as soon as he’d made it back to Gotham. Word had spread, and with the absence of the second Robin for more than 6 months, everyone believed him Especially when Robin resurfaced with a clear difference in body type, fighting style, and even hair style. Clearly the second Robin – and everyone had known that the second Robin was not the original acrobat, he’d been too much of a street rat had too thick of a Gothamite accent; Tim was neither for he held himself like the elite he was – was gone.

With how violent Batman became until the third’s appearance, it was easy to make the assumption that the Joker had really beaten and blown up Robin. It wasn’t like it was wrong either.

Jason would know.

However, in Jason’s month of research upon arriving back in Gotham, he found that things were different than the information that Talia had given him. Timothy Drake was as unwelcome as Jason had been at the start. The villains who weren’t completely batshit (hah) insane did no like the colder calculating Robin, since Robin had been a small piece of light in their otherwise shitty lives. It was why Robin existed after all. Jason knew that even in Gotham, villains had soft spots for their hero’s sidekick. Poison Ivy had once helped him out whe he’d been overwhelmed in a gang fight, and Cat Woman loved to sit on rooftops with him and just chat; one Crim Alley kid to another. The others went out of their way to _not_ hurt him. Heck, even the Joker and Harley Quinn had had a soft spot for him. The difference is that with the Joker, a soft spot mean extra pain.

No such privilege was given to the third. They treated him with indifference. Even the Joker only used him to get to Batman indirectly; simply taunting them with stories of Jason’s death, warnings, and the word ‘replacement’. Tim of course, took it in stride, but Jason took a sort of vindictive pleasure when he notice the working girls turning their noses up at him when he asked for info. Sure they ay have caved in the end – people’s lives depended on it, but they didn’t make it easy for the new Robin.

Speaking of the girls, Jason had spent a good week tracking down Abby and Crystal’s new haunt. He’d missed them, and figured if anyone deserved to know he was back, it was them. They’d flipped when he’d become Robin, and they were no doubt saddened to hear of his murder. They also seemed to be on his side concerning the replacement if their snubbing of Tim meant anything. Plus prostitutes were on excellent way to spread information.

He’d decided about 2 weeks into being back that he didn’t want the Red Hood – his new moniker – to just be some nobody that rose from the shadows. Well he kind of did, but not in that way. No, people knew that the second Robin had been a street kid (his accent had helped with that) and the legend around that could be put to his advantage. Yeah the Joker killed the second Robin, but he came back and now he isn’t playing by Batman’s ruled; he’s out for blood.

After all, the only way to really stop crime, is to get rid of the people creating the crime.

And that’s how he ended up sitting on a building just above where a group of prostitutes – including both Crystal and Abby – were huddled together. It had been a slow night and only a couple of birls had managed to pick up a client. This was his perfect opportunity. He jumped down, making enough noise to alert them of his presence, but quiet enough to indicate that he was a vigilante. Criminals and villains were either silent and deadly or bumbling fools. Either that or they knew that they would win no matter what happened.

The girls stiffened at the sound. “Ay, Robin, we told ya last week we don’t know nothin’ ‘bout whoever y’ur after. We ain’t gonna tell you anythin’ no more!” one of the younger girls said in an annoyed tone. He smiled behind his red helmet.

“Wrong person sweet cheeks,” he said, stepping into the light. He knew he looked scary, and he was honestly playing that up just because it was fun.

Crystal had aged sine he’d died, hard lines accented the line of her mouth and crows feet had began to develop around her eyes. Even though she was only in her 20s, she had seen and done a lot and she was tired. She glared at him. “Hey wise-ass, we don’t want any trouble. Just move along and we’ll all be on our way.”

“is that any way to greet an old friend?” he asked cheekily, unconsciously shifting into a more playful stance – one that was very reminiscent of the days before Ethiopia.

Crustal narrowed her eyes at him. “Whoo are you to be claiming to be an old friend? I don’t have any male friends.” She was on the defensive, but Jason couldn’t blame her. She probably thought that he was an old client trying to cause trouble.

“Aww, c’mon Crystal,” he said, deliberately dropping her name because he knew she went by another while she worked. “You don’t really mean that!” he teased, knowing she had no idea what was happening. He had effectively stolen the carpet from under her feet.

Crystal’s upper lip trembled. “How do you know that name?” she was scared now.

He decided to take pity and stepped further into the light while simultaneously removing his helmet. He’d decided to forgo the domino mask, so Crystal and the others could see his eyes and features easily. Crystal’s eyes nearly bigged out of her head as they flickered around cataloguing his features. “I-It can’t be…” she whispered, “you’re dead… who are you to wear that face!” she demanded, the shcok quickly melting into anger.

“Aw c’mon Crystal. ‘m not some lousy imposter. Death just didn’t stick Y’know how I like messing with the Joker’s punchlines.” He said, smiling softly at his own joke. Abby inched forward, but was quickly shoved behind Crystal.

“Can you prove it’s you?” she said softly. He grimaced, great. Time to dredge up unwanted memories that even the Lazarus waters couldn’t heal.

“Back when my mother was still alive, I used to do y’ur hair and make up for 20 bucks a job. When she died, I joined you’s on tha’ streets as Little Red. Use’ta be a lil’ ginger,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly in his body armour. He hadn’t thought about his time as a working boy for along time. The bats had never found out. “When I was Robin, I used to help ya teach the new girls ev’ry now an’ then.” A look of realization dawned on some of the other girls faces and Crystal’s eyes file with tears.

“Jason,” she breathed almost reverently. Then in one smooth movement, the two sisters launched themselves at him, crying softly. “we though you had died!” she cried again before pulling away abruptly and slapping him hard across the face. “Don’t you ever do that again.” She hissed.

Rubbing his cheek, he smiled sheepishly. “Let me tell ya, being beaten with a crow bar and blown up was not a fun time. Never again if I can help it.” He agreed. Crystal nodded as if that was the obvious answer (and it was).

“We need to catch up! Come help me shw the new girls how it’s done. You were always the best at dolling all o’ us up.” Abby said, latching onto Jason’s arm and turning to grin at the ladies behind her. “Ladies, this is Jason Todd, he was the second Robin ‘fore tha’ Joker got to ‘im. Learned everythin’ I know from him.” Then she smiled up at him again. “C’mon Jaybird! Alice needs help with blowjob proof make up.” Then they collectively surrounded him and started making their way to what he assumed to be towards Abby and Crystal’s apartment.

For the entire night, Jason had a soft but genuine smile plastered to his face. It was the first time he’d smiled in a long time.


End file.
